Bittersweet choices

Round colorful mounds placed upon green straws.

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Spring is Sweet but Bittersweet

As blue bells ring out their beauty and lilacs spray their sweetness, I marvel at the multi-colored tulip beds at Foster Park.  Redbuds light the paths to gardens filled with spectacular colors of red, yellow, purple, and pink.  Then, I sneeze and sneeze.  My eyes itch and I hear that familiar spring wheeze within.  How can I be allergic to such beauty?

God made these beautiful blossoms and me.  It is ironic these eye candies carry pollen to refurbish themselves, yet make me sneeze.  Yes, I understand that my autoimmune system needs its youthful vigor.  I know staying inside helps combat the pollen intake.  But really, who (old or young) can stay inside on these beautiful, treasured days?

I consider the seagulls that have been designed with boomerang wings.  It is not easy to begin their flight compared to other slight of wing birds. However, they can climb the wind to float on the top rung of the flight latter.   They need only to flap when they start to drop.  Their design is perfect for their full bodies.  So, what seems difficult becomes and asset because they can fly high above in the heavens and see what fish or sand scraps they choose.  They descend by just gliding in the wind to dine at sea or sand.

I consider the great horned owl.  His favorite meal is a skunk.  I suppose his appetite to exist is stronger than the smell he must withstand.  Again, a struggle and strange combination exists in our natural world.

I consider the tulips.  Their beauty is breathtaking when their blooms pop open like a set alarm clock.  They are framed by dazzling red bud and lilac trees, which hear the same alarm.  Their beauty fleeting before my eyes because that same alarm that signaled the bud, now signals their time on earth is over.  “ Too soon, too fast,” I declare over the beds of glory.  In retrospect, I should rejoice over their reign. It is my artist heart that would like them to stay and bloom all summer.  However, then there would be no such season as spring.

So whether it is allergies, boomerang wings, stinky prey, or a brief life span, I must let the trial come to gather the blessing and manna of this day.

Sufficient and glorious grace.

Grace, just what my dull heart needed.

As I watch the twinkling Christmas lights across the neighborhood, it reminds me of the gift of grace.  Children delight in the new fallen snow and make pretend angels on the white blanket in their yard.  Neighbors reach out with cards, cookies, and calls of cheer.  They have forgotten their summer plight with weeds or noisy neighbor children. 

The world looks different during the holiday season.  People are smiling more, singing the carols that have lived in their hearts since childhood.  Sparkling eyes from the granddaughters remind me this season is truly magic and majestic.

Adult children return home to sniff the fragrance of the fresh evergreens and favorite recipes baking in the oven.  Stacks of frosted cookies remind them of their childhood.  Silver and red packages hold a mystery of what is to come on Christmas day.  Everyday has some precious memory of the past or that is being realized this day.

I call all this God’s grace.  I remember how unexpected His grace was on a sad and lonely day.  I understood His grace at the loss of my parents.  I embraced His grace when I first held my newborn sons.  I hunger for His grace more than for the roasting turkey, baked cookies, or seasonal cranberry recipes.  I see His grace as a white blanket that keeps me warm regardless of life’s turns and trials.  Because of God’s grace, I see with new eyes this season the birth of Christ. I know that it is grace that lifted my dull heart into one of expectancy of the second coming.  For grace, I am thankful.